


well exCUSE me, fincess!

by stellarbird



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, No actual explicit content, Possible dubcon warning for Stockholm Syndrome?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 17:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarbird/pseuds/stellarbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meenah Peixes loves being a space pirate, but kidnapping sucks ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	well exCUSE me, fincess!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trickshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickshire/gifts).



\-- technomanticGrl [TG] started pestering galateanGastronomer [GG] \--  
TG: yo janey  
TG: bleerp blerp bloop blop  
TG: depsrately seeking janesan  
TG: mission control 2 the janepod do u hear me  
TG: houston we have a problem  
TG: how big is this problem well mr nasa it looks like its about  
TG: as big as ur moms choice ass  
TG: so choice its got the sticker for oprahs book club on it  
TG: her hot ass is the selection 4 this month if u know wht i mean  
TG: o knows where its at  
TG: SIGH  
TG: jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanee  
TG: hellooooooooo  
GG: What is it, Roxy?  
GG: Please keep in mind that the absence of immediate response is not an invitation to keep spewing inane blabber into the chatbox!  
TG: oh the janegle has landed  
TG: god bless us every one  
GG: What?  
GG: Rolal, you are making even less sense than usual.  
TG: cmon janey cut me a bit of slack  
TG: i was so glad to hear yr dulcet tones that i seem to have caught a sudden a ttack of the vapours  
TG: ooh ms crocker ooh!!!  
TG: swroomf  
TG: *swoons  
GG: ???????????  
TG: anyway  
TG: hows my favorite girl  
GG: I’m fine, thank you for asking.  
GG: Dad and I baked a beautiful cake for my eighteenth birthday!  
TG: oh right  
TG: big ol ONE EIGHT is coming up  
TG: gonan be legal as heck ;)  
TG: all the boys be runnin scared cause janeys in the house  
TG: so whos the special guest of honor at ur bday janinski  
TG: am i gonna finally get 2 give the bucket talk  
GG: The what?  
GG: Frankly, Ro, I can’t understand half of what you’re saying.  
TG: the bucket talk  
TG: man janey did you never watch ANY dumb teenage romance movies  
TG: sweet lil emily or allison or whatever walks in w her first date and dad goes well mr higginson  
TG: i got a bigass shovel and an even bigger plot of land  
TG: aint no one gonna miss u  
TG: u treat my girl right u hear or u aint gon hear nothing no more  
GG: Roxy, it is not your duty to scare off my potential romantic interests!  
GG: Besides, any would-be suitor of mine has to undergo an extensive vetting process first from CrockerCorp’s elite team of private investigators.  
GG: Golly gosh! If I wasn’t heir to the CEO herself I’d like to be one of those investigators one day, but as it is that’s simply out of the question.  
TG: are those the secret guards uve got guardin ur house rn  
GG: Well, yes.  
GG: The Crockerton Men are the premier name in security and investigation, after all.  
GG: They are simply the best there is!  
TG: hm  
GG: What was that “hm” supposed to mean?  
TG: nothign  
TG: well  
TG: lets just say that ive herad stuff that suggests that they might not be that premeier  
TG: maybe more like  
TG: postmier  
TG: if u get my drift  
GG: No, I certainly don’t.  
TG: well ms crocker  
TG: accordin to my research, there is basically MATHS percent chance that someone is goin 2 try something on ur life before u turn 18  
TG: aw shit dorothy ann is that true  
TG: fraid so ms frizz  
TG: shoulda stayed at ur home school phoebe corporate murders never happened there  
GG: What?  
TG: sry forgot that u grew in richyrichville  
TG: no magic school bus for u  
GG: No, wait, back up this metaphorical freight train.  
GG: Did you say corporate murders?  
TG: i see ur FINLALY payin attention  
TG: ms crockercorp herself has got it in for ur ass  
TG: not in a gay way i mean in a first degree murder kinda way  
GG: That’s ridiculous. Dad said that she was grooming me as her personal successor!  
TG: mhm  
TG: janey lemme ask u uve seen the pics of her right  
GG: Well, yes.  
GG: She’s appeared in several press releases over the decades and she always sends cards for New Year’s, even if she doesn’t have time to visit personally.  
TG: mhm and lemme just say she is FINE  
TG: but the thing is shes been alpha grade fine for like  
TG: fifty years  
TG: its the kind of shit where u go whoops  
TG: i cant believe its not butter only in this case butter is HELLS OF DARK MAGYKS  
GG: I suppose she HAS aged remarkably well …  
GG: I am pretty darned sure that she could easily have accomplished the effect through proper moisturization and possibly the added tool of plastic surgery!  
GG: No “magyks” need have taken place.  
TG: mhm sure  
TG: just promise me that youll be XTRA CAREFUL these next few days ok  
TG: pretty please w cotton candy an a little marzipan pony on top  
TG: girl u kno marzipan is your weakness  
GG: It’s just very useful in decorating cake tops, that's all.  
TG: ok sure  
TG: u know u want the m i kno u want the m  
TG: just please promise me jane  
GG: Sheesh, OKAY.  
GG: I will be careful.  
GG: Satisfied, Miss Paranoia?  
TG: its enough i guess 

\---------------------------------------------------------

Years in the past, but not many …  
A slightly soggy ragamuffin shows up on a front doorstep.

A doorbell is rung, a bathrobe hastily thrown on, a face pressed to the frosted panes of a front door. Glasses: horn-rimmed cat-eyes. The girl on the outside of the door lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

The door creaks open, letting out a rush of warm air and the whispered words, “Get inside!” The shivering doorbell-ringer is dragged into a garishly decorated living room; a half-full mug of tea is thrust into her hands and a woolen blanket is wrapped unceremoniously around her shoulders. She sits for a moment in near-silence as the other girl rummages around the kitchen, making another cup of tea (black, with a dash of salt and a rather larger dash of brandy). 

Eventually the shivering dies down and the girl with horn-rimmed glasses says, “Well, Peixes?”

“Lower your coddamn eyebrows, Serket,” comes the growled reply. “You aint got no glubbin reason to look at me like that. What, can’t a girl shoal up freezing and wet on her best friend’s doorstep every once in a while?”

“It may be that the traditions of friendship excuse such behavior – but never without an explanation. Come on, then, spill. What happened? Did Madam Condesce try to comb your hair again? Did her highly refined sense of fashion protest and try to prohibit the gaudy “bling” that you _insist_ on wearing on what seems like every pierce-able part of your body? Or could it be that rather than you running away, as you do threaten to do about eight times a year, she has kicked _you_ out?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Meenah says into her cup. “In a manner of seaking.”

“Elaborate, please?”

“She wasn’t as much plannin to kick me out of the castle as to kick me outta life, if you get my driftwood.”

“So your much-awaited murder plot surfaced after all? That seems a bit unfitting for a ruler so bent on benevolence –“

The mug slams down on the side table with a splatter that makes Aranea wince (it's real mahogany, and giving Meenah a coaster would be an exercise in futility). “Aw fuck that noise, you know as whale as I do that she goes on and on about charity and kindness but when it comes to shellf-centered she's right up there with your auntie,” Meenah hisses. “I bet when she talks aboat offin me it it’s all “oh, it’s for )(er own GOOD” or “it’s for t)(e benefit of t)(e empire” or some other bs like that. “ 

“You certainly sound glad enough to get her out of your hair. Or rather, you’re out of hers, ha-ha. I am of course referring to the extraordinarily large amount of hair of your grandmother, in which animals and small children often –“

“Clamp down on the expofishion girl, I know about all about my own fuckin grandmother’s hair.”

Dinner is take-out from the Noringian place down the street, like it often is; even when the house’s adult inhabitant is home, neither member of the household knows how to cook anything other than burnt eggs, slightly less burnt toast, and tea. The fridge and pantry are packed with leftovers and alcohol.

Her chopsticks click gently against each other as Aranea eats. Meenah doesn’t even bother with them; she uses her tiny golden fork – a miniature replica of the weapon slung across her back – for everything, alternating between stabbing and shoveling. She talks very little and Aranea takes the opportunity to talk very much, which suits her.

“I’ve heard that there’s a new revolutionary calling himself the Signless,” she says. “He claims to be making a stand against both the casteism, classism, and corruption of the current empress and the corporate hegemony of her foreign business investments. Personally I find his story rather compelling – if in need of a better storyteller than the one I heard the tale from - but of course I refrain from any comments of that nature in general conversation. The considerable wealth my aunt has accumulated from her – shall we say, dubiously legal – business exploits greases enough palms for sufficient numbers of officials to ignore her more contraband activities, but seditious sentiment–“

“Yeah, mhm, whatever,” says Meenah. “When’s the old girl coming home?”

“My aunt? She shouldn’t be back for at least a couple of weeks. She left on an expedition only a few days ago-“

“Oh yeah? Off treasure seeking?” Meenah grins and happily skewers a piece of fish. “Man gill, you must be rich as a fuckin dragon with that kinda loot in your house – what did she bring back last time? A shoalid gold statue of my great-grandma? Shit, now there’s a lady who’s got style – I heard she executed a hundred prisoners once by tyin their feet to clampposts and their arms to wave-er balloons. None of this chumpass “public service” trash for her!”

“Your great-grandmother was a brutal and wicked tyrant,” says Aranea primly. “We’re quite lucky to be rid of her.”

Meenah rolls her eyes and pats her friend on the head. “Fuckin ace,” she says. “Gonna get a million gold sea stars at that rate.” 

“Jealous? I know of your predilection for gold.“

“Ain’t a predilection,” comes the correction. “I love the stuff. Ima have a house full of gold furniture, gold forks, gold spoons, gold cups and shit, you know the drill. Only thing that’s gonna come CLOSE to the amount of gold I’m gonna have is rubies.”

“You sound like my aunt.”

“Serket, your aunt rules. Shes my coddamned hero. I used to look at her and think man, I’ma be just like Serkets auntie one day, screw empress-ing-“

“And now that you have, ah, screwed empress-ing, I assume the route to space piracy is right open for you?”

A grin spreads across Meenah’s face. “Shit, girl, I didn’t even THINK of that! Shell yeah, interuniversal piracy here I come...“

\---------------------------------------------------------

Years in the future, but not many ...

\-- galateanGastronomer [GG] started pestering technomanticGrl [TG] \--  
GG: Rolal.  
GG: It is now the day before my birthday and, gee whilikers, will you look at that!  
GG: Not a SINGLE ATTEMPT has been made on my life thus far!  
GG: It’s almost as if there were never any danger of such a thing happening in the first place.  
TG: yeah whatever  
TG: ur bday isnt here yet janeway  
TG: the moment ur cute lil ass turns legal and an adult ur a totes legit competitor for CEO-ESS OF CROCKERCRAP  
TG: and id bet all my wizcomics that good queen bett aint gonan let that hapen  
TG: u know how much i love my wizcoms jane  
GG: Ugh, whatever.  
GG: I think you are being overly paranoid, like you always are.  
GG: Your ridiculous conspiracy theories never turn out to be true!  
TG: yeah but they havent been disproved yet have they  
TG: eliminate the impossile an whatevr is left must be the truth  
TG: a v wise man once told me that janet  
GG: Stop quoting Sherlock Holmes!  
GG: Mr. Holmes is an excellent detective and would never concern himself with any of the silly things you love talking about.  
TG: le SIGn  
TG: just b r r vareful 4 the next few days ok luv  
TG: 5 me?  
TG: jane  
TG: jayyennenennnee  
TG: jayenne pepper  
TG: cmon jane that was totes a baking ref throw me a bone or something  
TG: ...  
TG: jane?  
\-- galateanGastronomer [GG] is now an idle chum! –-  
TG: well  
TG: shit

\---------------------------------------------------------

Your name is Meenah Peixes and you are PRETTY FUCKING FED UP with this human girl. Kidnapping is HELLS OF NOT as simple as you thought it would be. Making your way through those lameass “guards” of hers was easy enough – the only one you’d been warned about, the bald dude in the fedora, turned out to have been put out of commission by some unknown a few moments before you got on the scene. Whoever Mr. Mysterious Unknown was, he must have had a pretty kickin knife. Maybe Pissy Stabface – you’ve always thought that nicknames were your strong suit, though Expofishion Mcgee (Aranea) disagrees – was the one that offed him? Who knows, who gives a shit. Either way, you’ve snatched the human bakery princess from floppin in some lame as shit murder attempt, flipped one to Her Imperious Pretension, and added some sweet loot to your collection. Aw yiss. Sweet loot pillaged from the bodies of your enemies is the best kind of bling, amirite?

All in all, a pretty fintastic victory if you don’t count the whiny terran girl herself. Because cod DAMN, is she whiny. She hasn’t shut her fuckin mouth for ten minutes since you captured her. It’s been all “whine whine I want my dad whine whine my guards will capture you whine whine you gosh darned pirate girl you suck and I hate you forever!!!! whine.” Shit got old REEL FAST. Well exCUSE me, fincess, you think, this is a kidnapping not a coddamn valet service!

Oh lordy. She shut up for a blessed five minutes and now she’s starting up again.

“For your information,” she’s sayin, “my best friend Roxy was in the middle of a conversation with me and she’s very worried about my personal well being, so I wouldn’t be surprised AT ALL if she were gathering a task force of CrockerCorp’s ace detectives to come hunt me down. And when they find me, as I assure you they will, you’ll get exactly what ruffians like you deserve-“

You groan and pull your pillow over your ears. It’s the best fuckin pillow ever, its got your face embroidered on it in LEGIT GOLD THREAD but its not really doing the task right now; her yammering still comes through. You’d almost prefer Serket’s endless explanations – at least her voice is low enough to be soothing. Bakery girl’s voice is like a glubbin pitchfork, right in your ears. You turn over again (not that it helps).

It’s going to be a long night.

Your name is Jane Crocker and you are not one to use the “darn” word lightly, but you are PRETTY FUCKING FED UP with this night. First it turns out that Roxy was right that someone would try to kidnap you – although, you note with satisfaction, it wasn’t Betty Crocker, just some sort of weird pirate fish girl – and shucks buster, if being bound, (inefficiently) gagged, and half-yanked half-dragged into a suspiciously fishy smelling spaceship isn’t just the WORST EXPERIENCE you’ve EVER HAD. Isn’t it just! There was a brief glimmer of hope when you went up to a room that looked at least slightly cleaner than the rest of the ship, if a little gaudier than your taste, but the foulmouthed pirate girl who kidnapped you just shoved you past the door. Instead of a nice shiny room full of gold and jewels and what looked like a soft fluffy bed, you got a storage crate. With some straw. And a cupcake.  
It was carrot cake, and she never untied your hands so you’d have to eat it like some kind of animal.  
You hate carrot cake.

“You like baking or some shit like that, right?” the girl had said. “Here you go, enjoy your dinner, and shut the fuck up before I stab you right through the middle with my rockin new trident.”

Shut up you didn’t, because obviously anyone trying to ransom a prisoner would know better than to kill said prisoner. Your hunch turned out to be right; pirate girl cursed more than you’d ever heard in your life – even more than Roxy swore in any of your numerous conversations – but left your midsection safely intact.

Eventually your throat gives out and and the cupcake gets eaten even if it is carrot cake and you have nothing better to do so you curl up to sleep.

This is, beyond a doubt, the worst day of your life.

\---------------------------------------------------------

_“BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN EVERYWHERE_  
 _BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN EVERYWHERE_  
 _BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN EVERYWHERE_  
 _ROCKIN EVERYWHERE, ROCK-“_

“The fuck do you want, Serket.”

“I was just curious as to how your little expedition yesterday went.”

“It went great. Everyfin came up like fuckin _roses_. Good night.”

“Meenah, it’s ten in the morning.”

“Yeah, where you are maybe –“

“Due to the relative nature of time in the universe, the International Federation of Space Governments has instituted a universal standard time to which all space travelers and those involved in intergalactic transportation must adhere. You know this, you’ve been a space pirate for what, five years? You must have picked up-“

“Yeah what the shell ever, in my local Meenah Peixes time it's sleep o clock and you are being wave too loud. Bye, Expofishion.” Meenah’s head closes the shellphone on its way down to her pillow, but sleep is held off by a persistent whine:

“Helloooooooooooooo! Hellllllllloooooooooooooooo! HELLLOOOO!!!!!”

Groans alone would not suffice to express Meenah’s disgust.

“Keep yer pants on, I’m coming,” she yells through the wall. The noise abates for a minute and then starts up again, as if the wailer does not find this statement entirely convincing. Clever girl.

The pants and shirt that Meenah wore to bed are still bloodstained – she couldn’t be fucked to change into them the night before, and the answer to the question “Is she in the mood to change them now?” is an emphatic “shell no” – but the number of shits she gives about what Little Miss Bakery Princess thinks about her attire isn’t enough to fertilize a garden plot. The stomps as she makes her way down the spaceship are probably enough to make dents in the admittedly cheap ship’s floor, but they also feel _great_.

About a minute’s digging in several baggy pockets produces a keyring, bristling with keys; most of them are tackily golden, too soft to be useful for anything but show, but the one that Meenah selects is made of iron. In goes the key, click goes the padlock, and Meenah carefully swings the crate door open, pointing her trident at Princess the entire time.

“Shut your whining, I’m here. What do you want?”

She’s terrified – obviously – but makes a surprisingly good attempt at hiding it. “This cupcake is entirely insufficient for dinner,” she says stiffly, “and you haven’t supplied me with breakfast – unless I’m supposed to eat straw?” 

“Yeah, be a good little horsey,” Meenah says, and starts to close the door. Jane hops forward on her knees and sticks her shoulders through the opening, blocking her from going any further.

“I am a prisoner, and I demand to be treated with my rights!” she yells. “When you’re caught, which you will be, I’m sure the judge would be much more lenient with your punishment if I tell him that you fed and treated me well.”

“You ain’t seen too many judges, have you.”

“We- well, my father will be most upset when he finds you, and I – oh, consarn it - I’m the heiress to – can’t you at least _feed_ me? You kidnap me from my home, you separate me from everyone that I love, you leave me in a stinking crate with a cupcake for dinner and you kill my father-“

“Whoah, hush up there, glubface. I didn’t off your dad. I nearly tripped on him, the dude had blood everywhere from a messy lil stab wound right in the chest. Reel nasty bit a work, probs one of Betty Crocker’s henchmen-“

“You’re lying!”

Jane wants to slap this girl so hard that she cries, but her hands are still bound and so she settles for headbutting her. Right in the nose.

“Aw! Fuck!”

Meenah hops back, and swings wildly in front of her with the trident.

“You little shit!”

“It’s no less than you deserve,” Jane snaps back, but the defiant tone in her voice sounds less angry, more faked. Meenah gently massages her nose – not broken, thank cod - and it throbs. Her eyes glares at Jane from above her poor swollen nose, which now feels like it is on fire.

“I didn’t krill your fuckin dad, ok, and you know what, you oughta be thanking me for taking you out of there-“

“Why? Because Betty Crocker would have murdered me, right? Because everyone is plotting against me and apparently I can’t trust anyone, because Roxy was right and I wouldn’t be danged surprised if it turned out that she was tricking me somehow, too. I don’t even know who you are and you’ve basically ruined my life, my future, and my birthday, so thank you, and leave me alone.”

“I thought you wanted some food,” Meenah says.

“Just SHUT UP, OKAY?? I AM FEELING JUST PEACHY. SURE I’D LIKE SOME FOOD, BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT MORE? FOR YOU TO TAKE YOUR STUPID FACE WITH YOUR STUPID HAIR AND YOUR STUPID _FUCKING_ PIERCINGS AND GET OUT OF MY LIFE! RETROACTIVELY!”

She begins to cry.

Meenah doesn’t quite know what to do, but she locks Jane back up in her crate and walks back to her room, wincing and touching her nose every few steps.

This kidnapping gig isn’t all that it’s clammed up to be.

She falls asleep what feels like seconds after falling on her bed and it’s only when she wakes up five hours later that she realizes that Jane said it was her birthday.

You almost gotta pity the girl, she thinks. This has got to be the worst fucking birthday anyone has ever had.

In the crate, Jane agrees.

\---------------------------------------------------------

\-- contrabandCourier [CC] started trolling ardentlyGarrulous [AG] \--  
CC: yo expofishion mcgee  
CC: you there  
AG: Just a moment, Meenah.  
CC: k  
CC: hm m m m m m  
CC: ok im not the best at maths but i feel like  
CC: its been KINDA MORAY than one moment  
AG: Oh calm down, Meenah!  
AG: It’s called exagger8ion.  
AG: Or should I say “clam down?”  
CC: man whatever serket its gonna take more than some fish puns to butter me up  
CC: thats a pretty passable one though ill give you credit for that  
AG:  <>   
CC: yeah whatever your kooky romance symbols are pretty guppyin weird  
AG: Guppyin? That’s a new one.  
CC: shut your damn mouth  
CC: anyway i had a question about bakers dozen  
CC: man that nickname sucks serious ass  
CC: little miss muffin?  
CC: anderson cooker  
AG: Why don’t you just call her Jane?  
CC: because jane is the most fuckin boring name ive ever heard  
CC: its my unique and catchy nicknames thats one of the best parts about ridin the meenah train  
CC: look i just made an accidental rhyme there thats how bass i am  
AG: Okay, whatever floats your 8oat.  
CC:  <> <> <>   
AG: Haha.  
AG: Anyway.  
AG: What exactly is your pro8lem with Miss Crocker, other than her o8vious aversion to being locked inside a crate?  
CC: uh well shes not in the crate now  
AG: Really?  
CC: yeah i got tired of her whining so i put her in the mess  
CC: an let her do food prep for all our meals  
AG: You think it’s wise to give a prisoner sharp cooking implements?  
CC: man serket what do you think i am soft or somefin  
CC: ive got my trident at her back every second  
CC: anyway you would not B--ELI-EVE what that girl can cook up  
CC: noringian takeout aint got SHIT on a good home cooked meal  
AG: Why, Miss Peixes.  
AG: Your statements are sounding just the tiniest 8it ... romantic!  
CC: shut the fuck up serket i aint got a crush on this girl  
CC: shes just a good cook  
AG: Hm.  
CC: dont hm me  
AG: It was just a simple hm! You’re 8eing strangely defensive.  
CC: hhhh cant hear you cant hear you  
CC: ANYWAY  
CC: the day i kidnapped her was the day before her birthday and you know, that kinda blows  
CC: so i was finkin i could get her together a kinda late birthday bash  
AG: Sorry for kidnapping you and slaughtering your personal guard, here’s some cake and presents, that sort of thing?  
CC: serket you know my heart too well  
AG: Very well, Meenah.  
AG: I’d 8e delighted to help you indulge your little crush.  
CC: NOT A CRUS)( NOT A CRUS)( NOT A CRUSH)(  
AG: Whatever you s8y.  
\-- ardentlyGarrulous [AG] stopped trolling contrabandCourier [CC] \--  
CC: man girl you suck  
CC: stupid goddamn lousy perceptive friend

\---------------------------------------------------------

Your name is Meenah Peixes, and this is probably the most embarrassed you have ever felt in your life.

Butternut squash (note to shellf: fuckin terrible never use that again) is somewhere in the mess – you keep it locked up when you’re not around, but she defs seems to prefer it to the crate – and man do you hope she likes this gift. You’ve risked coming back to the part of the Terran federation that she used to call home just to get her a nice present and a Betty Crocker cake – personally you think theyre fuckin gross but Jane thinks they’re the most delicious things to grace the universe with their artifishally flavored presence – and you are PRETTY HOPEFUL that this late birthday will make up in part for the totes shitty one she had a few weeks ago.

The padlock on the door makes you set down all your packages – damn thing is way too inconvenient, you oughta switch it for a lighter one or maybe, you could just not lock that door at all – but eventually you jiggle the key enough and it pops open, revealing –  
An empty room.

Motherfuck.

There’s a large hole in the glass separating that door from the kitchen, and two chairs are basically firewood. The kitchen is – yup, plundered for tools, and the door on the other side is still open. Fuck! Fuckin fuck! Aw, shell no – you never shoulda untied her hands, but she complained that they were chafin and they were – no! A proper pirate doesn’t have to give in to the demands of her prisoners! You think Serket’s aunt ever untied a prisoner because they complained that their hands hurt? Cry me a fuckin river, Meenah Peixes. You screwed up, big time.

There ain’t no other option, you think, except to go kidnap her again. Time for a little old fashioned raiding, odds about 1 million to one. Damn. And you just got the bloodstains out of your clothes, too.

Your name is Jane Crocker and ok buster we’ve already been through all this can we just skip ahead to the present! You are feeling surprisingly severe feelings of self-doubt and worry – you just escaped from a murderous space pirate! You are bristling with cutlery and sharp silverware! You are safe in your home city, on your home planet! Then WHY ARE YOU SO SCARED? – and are finding it a little hard to walk through the streets while carrying approximately forty pounds of metal, most of it golden. You suddenly realize that it may not have been the best idea to wear so much gold in the middle of a major city.

You can feel people leering at you. Well, not YOU. You’re good looking enough, you guess, but you’ve been living off dried food, faygo, and too little sleep for weeks, and haven’t been able to take a proper bath in about that long. You must look an absolute fright. The gold, though, shines as prettily as ever.

The panic is starting to get pretty pronounced but then! Good grief, what a stroke of luck! You spot a familiar shiny black head.

“Mr. Droog!” You call out. “It’s me! Jane! Jane Crocker!”

You’ve only met the man once or twice before, but you’ve often seen his picture – he’s always faithfully trailing one or two steps behind the CEO of CrockerCorp, Betty Crocker – and you’re sure he’s seen yours. And oh, thank goodness! He seems to recognize you.

“Why hello, Miss Jane,” he says quietly. His voice makes you think of saxophones and you think, Duke Silver, but you shake your head to clear your mind. This man is no Ron Swanson, but he IS your ticket home. “We were so worried about your safety.”

His car is nearby and yes, of course he can take you to see Ms. Crocker. Everyone will be so relieved to have you back. Ms. Crocker herself has been frantic with searching. His platitudes fall neatly into your ears, and you fall asleep in the back seat of his car.

When you wake up, a woman with massive black hair is standing over you. She smiles, and you think of sharks.

\---------------------------------------------------------

prison diary day one  
prison FUCKIN SUCKS  
this aint even a legit jail its just some gross locked room her pretension keeps to put troublemakos in  
ug)(  
wish serket or even crocker was here this place is boring as fuck

prison diary day two  
no idea if its actually been a day (they took away my shellfoam) (figures) but i slept and got up so what the hell day two  
still boring  
they took away my trident losers  
wont tell me where jane is  
fuq the police

prison diary day three  
they keep feedin me german chocolate cake i )(AT------E german chocolate cake the coconut gets stuck in my teeth  
also this much chocolate is gonna give me a headache or somefin  
let me out t t tt

prison diary day four  
no ones gonna fuckin read this anyway but what ever  
if you are readin this mysterious stranger:  
first of all G-ET M--E OUT  
second of all if i am already out  
the reason i got into this mess in the first place was that they were expectin me  
and i thought id have the --EL-EMENT OF SURPRIS----E on my side  
i guess not  
well  
here i am in prison then  
betta learn from my mistakes whatever

prison diary day five  
her imperial pretension came down and talked all sweet to me she wants me to reform myshellf or some shit  
i told her to go fuck herself with that 2x3dent she loves and flippered her the bird  
now i dont even get german chocolate cake theyre just givin me dried coconut  
this place sucks. dont i have rights or somefin.

prison diary day six  
get me out get me out get me out  
get me o u t

\---------------------------------------------------------

\-- ardentlyGarrulous [AG] began trolling thoughtfulThaumaturge [TT] –-  
AG: Rose, I need your help.  
TT: Why, Aranea.  
TT: I haven’t heard from you in a while.  
AG: You’ve heard of the space pir8 Meenah Peixes?  
TT: The Terror of the Milky Way?  
TT: Has this trident-wielding larcener threatened you, my dear?  
AG: No, it's rather the opposite.  
AG: Er.  
AG: You know that my aunt is Spinneret Mindfang?  
TT: Of course. She’s helped us undermine her Pretension’s regime in many ways.  
TT: Her various financial schemes and boondoggles have been instrumental to our organization’s continued existence.  
AG: Well, Mindfang isn’t the only universe-famous space pir8 I’m close to.  
TT: Ah.  
TT: I see.  
TT: Are you engaged in a romantic relationship with this girl?  
AG: Oh!  
AG: Sort of.  
AG: You’re familiar with the four forms of romance as exposited by the great Alternian philosopher Eeh-ell Jaymes?  
TT: Extensively, yes.  
TT: Let me guess, you’re moirails?  
AG: Yes! Ex8ly.  
TT: That’s great.  
AG: Is it?  
TT: Er, sorry, that came out a bit strange.  
TT: I mean I think that your relationship is very charming.  
AG: I see!  
TT: Yes.  
TT: Um.  
TT: What did you need to ask me?  
AG: Oh! Right!  
AG: Meenah recently kidnapped the heir to CrockerCorp, Jane Crocker.  
TT: Yes, my daughter Roxy told me.  
AG: You have a daughter?  
TT: Daughter, mother, something.  
TT: She’s actually the same age I am.  
TT: It’s a little complicated.  
TT: Do go on?  
AG: Well, she did kidnap her for ransom – the heir to the CrockerCorp fortune is worth quite a nice sum of money – but you could also argue that it was for Jane’s own good.  
AG: 8etty Crocker, or rather Her Imperial Pretension, has always had it in for young and energetic heirs.  
AG: However, when Meenah was visiting Earth again, Jane managed to escape and Meenah went out in search for her.  
AG: She hasn’t returned, and I’m 8eginning to worry.  
TT: While Jane Crocker has returned, and appears to be doing quite well, by all accounts.  
TT: No report has come about regarding the capture of any space pirate kidnappers, but we all know that her Pretension rarely reports such captures.  
TT: No, the existence of shadowy, dangerous figures somewhere in space allows her to utilize extraordinary resources and amass normally unthinkable amounts of power.  
TT: My apologies, Aranea; Roxy is pestering me.

  


\-- technomanticGrl [TG] started pestering thoughtfulThaumaturge [TT] \--  
TG: yo mom  
TG: daughter  
TG: w ever  
TT: Yes, Roxy?  
TG: u know janes back right  
TT: I am reading a press release about it as we speak.  
TT: Type.  
TG: yeah well  
TG: ive been talking 2 her on pesterchum and she seems  
TG: weird?  
TG: idk shes not the janey im used to somethin seems OFF  
TT: Really?  
TG: like u kno janey is norms the tightest tightass that evr tightend an ass  
TG: she keeps laughin at my jokes now she never did that b4 unless they were like  
TG: actually good  
TG: i say shit like “two muffins r sittin in the hot hot flamz of an oven and one muffin goes shit bro it is hells of hot in here  
TG: and muffin no 2 goes holy fuckin shit a TLAKIN MUFFIN  
TG: and shes like  
TG: GG: Ha, ha, ha!  
TG: GG: Roxy, you are hilarious.  
TG: GG: I’m so glad I’m friends with you.  
TT: Rather strange and stilted, I agree.  
TG: and appranetly shes come out totes in favor all betty crockers policies or sthg and shes like takign over one of their pr departments  
TG: and i kno jane dgaf about like 50% of the shit crockercorp pulls  
TG: idk maybe im just readin 2 much into it?  
TG: but ros shes like  
TG: my best friend except 4 u  
TG: and ur not rly my friend ur my weird mom daughter thing  
TT: Thank you, Roxy.  
TG: dont get me wrogn mumsy its a bond even tighter than friendship  
TG: but friendship is still pretty dang tight and  
TG: idk what to do!!  
TG: im worried but im also worried that im overreactin and making a big deal about shit thats not there  
TG: you feel me?  
TT: No, I definitely think that something is off.  
TT: Do you know why Meenah kidnapped Jane in the first place?  
TG: idk for ransom money or for the lulz or sthg  
TG: why do space pirates do anything  
TT: Well, that was part of it, yes,  
TT: but there was also a plot by Betty Crocker on Jane’s life.  
TT: And now that she's been returned to the Batterwitch's power, Jane may still be in grave danger.  
TG: aw shit  
TG: i thought now that janes all behavey and stuff the batterwitch wouldnt consider her a threat  
TG: how the fuckd u find all that out  
TT: Apparently Aranea and Meenah are rather close.  
TG: how close  
TG: like close 2 the point where u dont have a chance w ur lil crush  
TT: ...  
TT: Did I tell you about that?  
TG: SIGH ros you are my DAUGHTER  
TG: its my JOB to know this shit  
TT: Okay, er.  
TT: No, the possibility of me and Aranea engaging in a relationship in a romantic capacity is not out of the question.  
TT: And that’s all that I’m going to discuss for now!  
TT: Bye!  
\-- thoughtfulThaumaturge [TT] stopped pestering technomanticGrl [TG] \--  
TG: headshake  
TG: mom ur a fuckign embrarasment  
  
  
TT: Thanks for waiting.  
AG: It wasn’t a pro8lem.  
AG: What did Roxy have to tell you?  
TT: Apparently Jane has been acting rather strange recently.  
TT: Roxy’s worried.  
AG: Hm.  
TT: And from what we know of her Pretension’s powers in the realm of mind control ...  
AG: We need to get 8oth of them out of there NOW.  


\---------------------------------------------------------

Meenah we have attached this note to a small moth in the hopes that it will be a8le to sneak into your cell. Please eat the moth and the note AFTER YOU HAVE READ IT* in order to destroy any evidence.  
*The note, not the moth.

A friend and I have devised a route for getting you and Jane out of the palace ...

Normally you would never have thought about eating moths, but after two weeks of dried coconut anything non-flaky looks good. It crunches between your teeth. The paper is more resistant to chewing and so you just swallow it instead.

We’re doin this, man, you think.  
We’re makin shit )(APP-EN.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Your name is Jane Crocker and it is a beautiful spring day. Your dress is very pretty. Ms. Betty Crocker picked it out for you. She is very nice. She is your friend.

There is a noise in the hallway! Oh dear. Sometimes people try to make loud noises in Ms. Crocker’s palace. She smiles at them and gives them a big hug. She is such a sweet woman. Then she calls Spades Slick over and he cuts off their head. Ha, ha, ha! It is so much fun to watch. When you have been very good, she lets you keep an ear. You love staying with Ms. Crocker.

It sounds like the noise is getting too close to your door. That’s okay. Diamonds Droog likes to stand outside your door. He is very nice to you. He says that he misses your dad. He says your dad was the best damn shaver he ever saw. You do not remember your dad, but you are sure he was very nice. He worked for Ms. Crocker. Everyone who works for Ms. Crocker is very nice.

Now there is a VERY LOUD noise. Your room shakes a little. You hear Diamonds Droog swear loudly and run away. You frown. Swearing is bad. Ms. Crocker doesn’t like it when people swear in front of you. Maybe she will chop off Droog’s head! The thought makes you a little sad. You like Droog.

Your door slams open and a very dirty looking girl with two long braids runs inside. “Outta here, princess!” she says. “C’mon, we don’t have a whale lotta time-“

“I’m not going with you,” you say. “I like it here. I don’t like you.”

She stares at you. “Oh motherglubbin fuck. What the shell have they done with you?”

“They haven’t done anything. Ms. Crocker is nice to me. I don’t like you. Go away. I’ll scream!”

The girl rolls her eyes. “Your screamin don’t have any effect on me anymore, Jane-o,” she says. “I dragged you once, I’ll drag you again, I don’t give a carp. Maybe a good thunk on your head’ll set you straight.”

She drags you down the stairs. There is a lot of smoke. You scream for Betty Crocker and say you don't want to go, but she keeps dragging you anyway. You make it into the hallway and there is smoke and dust everywhere and you try to stop to catch your breath and end up in a coughing fit.

“C’mon, Jane,” she says, trying to make you go faster, but you’ve stopped. Someone else has your shoulder.”

“W)(y, Meena)(!” She says. “I’m very surprised to see you )(ere!”

The girl pulling you swears. Loudly.

“That’s not a friendship word,” you say automatically. “You should wash out your mouth with soap.”

She stares at you.

“Aren’t you a GOOD little girl!” beams Ms. Crocker. “S-E-E, Meena)(? You could be this good if you would just L-ET me K------ELP you!”

“Aw shell naw,” she says. “Let go of Janerella here, or I’ll stab you with this sword I nicked from one of your guards.”

“But Jane doesn’t want to go wit)( you! Jane’s a good girl. She wants to stay )(ere, wit)( me. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” you say obediently.

“Good girl. Come with me, t)(ere’s a delicious slice of carrot cake waiting for you upstairs.”

Something clicks in your head.

“No.”

“W)(at?”

“I don’t like carrot cake.”

“Jane,” Ms. Crocker says testily. “You love carrot cake.”

“I fucking hate carrot cake!” you yell, and stomp on her foot. She screams. No one has hit her in a very, very long time, you think.

"I tried so )(ard and got s)(oal far," she shrieks, "and in t)(e end it was GLUBBING CARROT CAKE?"

Meenah is laughing, really laughing, and she grabs you and you are going to kiss her, you are going to kiss the GOSH-DARNED HECK out of that girl, but Betty Crocker makes a strangled kind of garbling noise behind you and Meenah pulls you down the hallway. “That was ace, baker girl,” she says, and the two of you run and dodge angrily thrown pieces of confectionery.

“Is this another kidnapping?” you ask.

“FUCK no,” Meenah says. “I had my share of being imprisoned and it was not fun, believe me. I ain’t gonna kidnap NO ONE after that. You’re home free, fincess, after we get the shell out of here!”

A knife narrowly misses you and slams into a wall. Meenah rips it out and throws it somewhere behind you, not even bothering to aim.

This is probably the most dangerous thing you have ever done, with the most irresponsible person you have ever known, and it is the cat's PAJAMAS.

\---------------------------------------------------------

When they return to the ship, Jane declares that she will bake a cake to celebrate their glorious and action-filled escape; she manages to open the bag of flour before collapsing into a pile of exhaustion and dust. Meenah carries her to the bed and lays her down, pulls the cover over her as an afterthought. Jane sighs in her sleep. A little puff of flour comes out and settles gently on her face; Meenah leans over to kiss her, breathes in and gets flour up her nose. A short coughing fit ensues, but Jane stays asleep. Meenah gives up on romance and returns to the kitchen.

Jane wakes up to the smell of cake.

"Morning, flourface," says Meenah. She pushes the plate forward.

"You didn't tell me you knew how to bake!"

"I watched you enough to catch the tuna things, I guess," Meenah says. She grins. "Haven't tasted it yet though, it could taste like total carp-"

The cake tastes delicious, and not at all like fish.

"Shoal," Meenah says. "I made up a pack for you, with hella weapons and gold because you're gonna need all of it if the Batterwitch wants her precious pet back-"

"A pack?"

"Yeah, Crocker, ain't you ready to float right outta this joint? And I'll be clammed if I let you go without proper weapons or anyfin to protect yourshellf, just because I'm a pirate don't mean that I don't care about-"

"Actually," Jane interrupts, "I thought I'd stay."

"Stay?"

"Well, I face all manner of uncertain dangers if I leave! And facing them with a rapscallion of a pirate on my side seems like a much better idea, not to mention-"

Whatever Jane is about to say is cut off and probably lost forever, because Meenah leaps at her and kisses her with a joy and energy that is nearly alarming to behold. Jane laughs, rubs a spot of frosting off of Meenah's cheek, and kisses her back.

The cake is ruined, of course, as are the sheets, but neither of them seems to care.


End file.
